by Brian Lumley
For it seemed that following the enforced exit of the pair from Celephais, proof of their fantastic claims had begun to trickle in. Merchants from Ilek-Vad had brought stories from the court of Randolph Carter himself, where recently a most unlikely pair of rogues had been royally entertained as reward for deeds away and beyond any call of duty. Also, word had arrived from Theelys on the River Tross, where the good wizard Nyrass had his castle. The word was that two men and a girl had flown a huge leaf into Nyrass’ gardens, and that now a Great Tree was growing there.
Fantastic stories were echoing across the dreamlands from all quarters, tales which seemed to corroborate the many things Eldin the Wanderer had told Leewas Nith in the main courtroom of Celephais. And so the High Magistrate had set about to correlate these many small pieces of information, including what he remembered of Eldin’s seemingly boastful narrative. Except that the Wanderer’s story no longer seemed quite so boastful.
Eldin had maintained that he and David Hero were real heroes. Now, from what Leewas Nith could see of it, it appeared that they were indeed. In which case he had wronged them—if only a little. If they had been feted when first they arrived in Celephais, then none of this would have happened. If he, Leewas Nith, had known of their heroics sooner … If, if, if!
Too late now, but nevertheless he finished piecing together their recent history and sent it, via carrier pigeon, to Kuranes in Serannian. As to why he told his King the whole story: that is easily answered. If a sailor sets out from Celephais across the Cerenerian, unless he knows that sea most intimately, then surely will he sail into those regions where the sea meets the sky, where gravity-defying Serannian is builded upon an ethereal shore of clouds.
As for Kuranes himself: he had paid little heed to the first two notes. There were plenty of rogues in the dreamlands and these men from the waking world seemed to be just a couple more. Besides, he had other things on his mind, problems which troubled him sorely.
But on receipt of the third message an irresistible idea had occurred to Kuranes. Here was he, seeking an answer to a momentous problem—one which may well affect all the lands of Earth’s dreams in their entirety—and somewhere out on the Cerenerian Sea, at this very moment, the answer he sought might well be drifting with the aerial tides … in the shape of a couple of cut-purses whose origins lay in the waking world. Well, and why not? Kuranes himself was once a waking-worlder, though he had been known by a different name then. Yes, and Randolph Carter, too, the King of Ilek-Vad.
And yet again Kuranes read Leewas Nith’s minuscules, which told the tale of the two as the High Magistrate of Celephais had finally pieced it together. If only half of it were true, then indeed these men were heroes!
Apparently their adventures had started in Theelys and had taken them to the source of the Tross in the Great Bleak Range of mountains. There, they had destroyed the evil sorcerer Thinistor Udd; not to mention an avatar of the dark demon god Yibb-Tstll, in the shape of a hideous stone idol which walked at Thinistor’s command. There too had they rescued Aminza Anz, darling of Ilek-Vad and long-stolen from that fair city by the sorcerer’s gaunts.
Moreover, they had climbed a great Keep of the First Ones, with the result that all three of them (for Aminza Anz went with them) had then set out upon a grand quest across all the lands of Earth’s dreams. During their ensuing adventures they had ridden a raft for endless leagues through nighted bowels of earth, and the life-leaf of a Great Tree across the dawn skies of dreamland; they had burned demon-cursed Thalarion to the ground and gathered up three stolen Wands of Power; and finally they had returned to the keep in the mountains to free the sleeping First Ones from eons of enforced slumbers.
All of these and other wonders the men from the waking world had performed, and now …? Perhaps Kuranes could find something else for them to do. He must give the matter some very serious thought …
Kuranes was still thinking things over when the man-o’-war of Captain Limnar Dass sailed into Serannian’s harbor and moored at a quay of blood-hued marble. Since the day was already half-spent he had decided against giving the adventurers audience until the evening, and between times Captain Dass could entertain them.
Which was why, when Dass and his—guests?—came down the gangplank onto the quayside, Kuranes’ special courier was there to meet them and hand the captain a message in the King’s hand. After reading the King’s note, Dass turned a speculative eye upon the adventurers.
“Seems I’m to look after you for few hours longer,” he told them. “The King won’t see you till tonight.”
“Is that bad?” asked Hero.
Dass shrugged. “Normally you’d be handed over to the peacekeepers,” he said, “and eventually you’d be tried. On this occasion—” he paused and frowned.
“Well?” growled Eldin.
“It’s just that it’s so unusual for Kuranes himself to sit in judgment,” Dass answered. “Tell me, apart from your boat-stealing activities and all, what else have you two been up to?”
“Nothing much,” Eldin airily answered. “A bit of spirited boozing, some brawling.” He looked at Hero sideways. “A little womanizing.”
Hero returned his look with a snort. “Not to mention a spot of arson about!” he said.
“Hmm,” mused Dass. “Well, it seems to me that none of that is really worthy of Kuranes’ personal attention. P’raps there’s something you’ve forgotten to mention … Anyway,” he quickly went on, changing the subject, “what would you say to an air-bath?”
“A what?” asked Hero.
Dass grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
As they made from the quayside and into the streets of the amazing aerial city proper, Eldin cast furtive eyes all about, taking in everything he saw. There were no pikemen now, just Eldin, Hero, and the man-o’-war’s captain. Dass spotted his covert squirming—both physical and mental—and said:
“Whatever it is you’re thinking about, Eldin—or thinking of thinking about—I’d better warn you now that it’s probably unthinkable.”
Hero looked at his companion’s scowling face and asked: “Were you thinking things, old lad? Well, I reckon Dass is right. I’ve had a few thoughts myself and they all lead me to one conclusion. There’s simply no way off this airborne rock, so we’d just better face up to what we’ve got coming. Dass,” he turned to the captain, “Where’s this air-bath of yours?”
“In here,” smiled Dass, ushering them in through an arched doorway from which issued copious clouds of scented steam. He tossed a golden triangular tond to a man in a crimson towel where he sat behind a desk of moisture-slick marble, then led the way through a second archway to where an attendant in a green towel loomed suddenly out of hot banks of steam to confront them.
The attendant waited until (not without a great deal of grumbling and grousing on Eldin’s part) they had all three shed their garments to stand pink and naked; and then, gathering up their discarded clothing, he guided them to a huge stone table studded with massive iron staples. From each staple there hung a great length of light but extremely strong chain. Here the three were given wide leather belts to fasten about their waists, to each of which the attendant attached the loose end of a chain.
They were now firmly secured to the table, and when the attendant was satisfied that their fastenings were safe he led all three of them forward through the steam to a rim of marble where the floor fell away into billowing clouds of exotically perfumed, rose-tinted vapors. Many other lengths of chain disappeared downward into this great cauldron, jangling and rattling against its slippery marble lip.
“When we’re done,” Dass explained, “our clothes will have been spruced up for us and we’ll all feel like new men.”
“Oh?” Hero chuckled. “Well, of course you two can suit yourselves, but as for me—I’ll settle for a new woman!” He slapped Eldin on the shoulder and the two roared with laughter.
While this was going on Dass positioned himself behind them. Now, as they suddenly se
nsed his intention and turned toward him, he stepped forward and gave them each a push, so that they skidded on the slippery surface before sliding over the curved lip and into the rolling vapor-clouds. As they went they managed to grab hold of each other, so that they were not separated as they whirled in air and moisture-laden cloud.
For a second or two the pair were too stunned to utter a sound, too shocked even to think, but as it dawned on them that there was no sensation of falling—that indeed they were suddenly weightless and that no danger threatened—so they relaxed and began to enjoy the invigorating experience of being suspended in air and washed by hot, spicy, billowing vapors. Dass, too, had entered the “pool,” and he quickly made his way to where the pair floated at the ends of their chains.
“How do you do that?” asked Hero breathlessly as Dass emerged from opaquely swirling walls of vapor, his arms and legs sculling like the limbs of some great frog. “Are you swimming?”
“Yes,” answered Dass with a grin. “It’s not as fast as water swimming, but you get there in the end.” He turned on his back, placed his hands under his head and closed his eyes. “I’m for a nap,” he informed. “You’d be advised to do the same. About an hour from now the sprays will wake us up.”
“Sprays?” Eldin repeated him. “What sprays?”
“Hot and cold water sprays that hit you from all sides, so that you don’t know whether to freeze or fry,” Dass answered. “Very uplifting …” And he drifted off to sleep.
Now the adventurers began to experiment, twisting this way and that and hauling themselves along their chains. Delighted with the weird sensation of weightlessness, Eldin said, “Why, it’s like a free–fall sauna!”
“A what?” questioned Hero, equally exhilarated.
“Something from the waking world,” said Eldin with a frown as vague, half-glimpsed memories faded back into forgotten regions of his mind. “I think.”
They played and floundered and fell about like fools for a few minutes more until, from close at hand, suddenly they heard female voices chattering and giggling. Now the pair twisted about until they faced each other with widening eyes. Women? Girls used the air-baths too? Mixed bathing? In the nude?
The sight of Eldin imitating a great frog was more than Hero could bear. He doubled with laughter as his burly companion went sculling away into the billowing vapors; but a few moments later, as Eldin’s uproarious chortling reached back to him intermingled with the delighted Oohs and Aahs and coy giggles of a dozen girlish voices …
“That’s a neat trick,” said Hero much later, as they dined in a restaurant that looked out over the Cerenerian Sea. “The air-bath, I mean. How’s it done, Limnar? How do they suspend you like that in the mid-air?”
“Shh!” Dass answered. “Just sit still for a minute and listen … There, do you hear it?”
“I hear it,” said Eldin, nodding. “I’ve been hearing it ever since we stepped off your ship onto the quayside. A deep down throbbing and humming. What does it mean?”
“Those are the mighty engines that manufacture the essence which keeps Serannian afloat,” Dass explained. “And the air-baths-they were built above the vents where the city’s engineers blow the stuff off. As its potency wanes, so it’s vented. Add a mixture of steam and a few exotic scents—”
“Amazing!” said Hero. “And you were right. So invigorating, so refreshing—”
“So sexy!” Eldin interrupted. “All those girls.”
“Ahem!” said Dass. “Yes, well, you’re not really supposed to go cavorting with the females, Eldin.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered the Wanderer. “What say you, David?”
Hero looked up with a broad smile on his face. “The air-baths were a lot of fun, Limnar,” he said, “but you can keep them for me. I’ll settle for a good cavort any old time!”
CHAPTER VI
The Curator
“Since we’re on this side of Serannian,” said Dass as they left the restaurant, “and since we’ve an hour or so to spare before the Tilt, I suggest we visit the Museum.”
“You know, Limnar,” Eldin sighed after a moment’s thought, “I’ve somehow grown to like you—despite the fact that you constantly speak in riddles! What, pray tell, is the Tilt?”
“And what,” Hero added, “has it to do with our seeing Kuranes?”
“Transport problems in Serannian,” Dass began by way of explanation, “are nonexistent. We have bicycles, and we have the Tilt. Serannian’s surface is more or less flat, or would be under normal circumstances. But four times a day everything is downhill …” He paused and smiled as if to say, “there you have it.”
“Good!” cried Eldin when it became apparent that Limnar had said his all. “Excellent! Clear as bloody mud!”
Hero looked deep into the captain’s eyes but found no trace of humor there. Since Dass was obviously sincere, the fault must lie elsewhere. “Would you like to say all of that again?” he invited. “Only—could you possibly put it some other way?”
“One we can understand,” Eldin added.
Dass sighed. “The sky-island has a built-in tilt,” he said. “Not a big one, but a tilt nevertheless. We call it the Tilt. It travels clockwise and completes a circuit every six hours. Therefore, four times a day you can cycle downhill, right across the city if you wish.”
“Hmm,” mused Hero. “Yes, I’d noticed that.”
“Eh?” said Eldin, mouth agape. “Noticed what? How come you always notice things after the fact?”
“The bikes,” Hero answered. “Lots of bikes, but all going in one direction. And none of them have pedals!”
“Of course not,” said Dass. “By the time you’ve spent an hour or two in any one place, it’s usually time to ride the Tilt home again! Why pedal when in a couple of hours you can freewheel? Anyway, don’t worry about it. After we’ve had a look at the Museum you’ll be able to experience the Tilt for yourselves. Kuranes’ manor house is on the other side of the city, so we’ll have to bike it.”
“His manor house?” queried Eldin. “Not a palace?”
Dass grinned in a manner the adventurers were becoming used to. “No,” he shook his head. “Oh, he’s King, right enough, but he styles himself Lord. Lord of Ooth-Nargai, Celephais, and the sky around Serannian. He was once a waking-worlder, remember? Old habits die hard.”
The adventurers stared at each other for a moment, then Hero turned back to Dass. “It’s a funny old place, your Serannian,” he said. “But tell me, Limnar, what makes you think we’d be interest in … a museum, did you say?”
“The Museum, yes. Follow me.” He led them down an alley to the sea wall, then pointed across the cloudbank sea to where a great circular structure was perched on a promontory at the eastern extreme of the sky-island. Beneath the circular building the rock was a shallow crust less than fifty feet thick, and beneath that—nothing.
Eldin frowned. “Captain Dass,” he said, reverting to the formal, “that seems a damned strange place to build a museum. Why, it looks ready to break off and fall into the sky!”
“The Museum,” Dass insisted. “Oh, it’s safe enough. Indeed, that’s the whole idea—safety. There’s only one way into the Museum, you see, and that’s along the causeway over the neck of the promontory. One way in and one way out. Thieves think twice before they tackle the Museum. That’s why I thought you’d like to see it. Give your imagination something to work on. Take your minds off your interview with Kuranes. Oh, yes, the Museum would be a hard place to crack, all right—but the Curator, impossible!”
“Yes, well, you’ve lost me again,” said Hero. “I mean, we’re talking about a museum … all right,” he quickly held up his hands, “the Museum—a place of mummies and bones and books and—”
“Gems and jewels and precious stones,” said Dass. “And golden figurines, ivory statues, jade miniatures; and priceless antiques, works of art and—”
“Whoa!” cried Eldin. “Hold on a minute. All of that? In there?” And he l
eaned on the sea wall and nodded his head toward the building on the promontory. Dass grinned as he noticed the gleam in the older adventurer’s eye. In Hero’s eyes, too.
“Jewels?” said the younger man in a dry voice. “Gold?”
“That’s right,” said Dass. “I guessed you’d be interested. Come on then. It’s closer than it looks. A ten-minute walk, that’s all …”
The causeway was narrow, walled, and perhaps thirty yards in length. Since there was room for only two abreast, the three men had to cross single file in order to allow sightseers leaving the Museum the right of passage. Looking down over the low wall as they went, Eldin and Hero were able to gaze almost straight down into uncounted fathoms of air—the aerial “deeps” of the Cerenerian Sea—beneath which the cites, towns, lakes, rivers, mountains and less extraordinary seas of Earth’s dreamland were spread like some fantastic miniature world which reached to the horizon. Far off they could even see Celephais, clearly recognizable where snow-capped Aran’s white head was raised before the nearby Tanarians.
“Hardly the place for a walk on a windy day,” Hero dryly commented as fleecy clouds scudded by beneath his feet.
They entered the Museum through a great archway and found themselves in a three-storied building of stone whose sealed windows were of unbreakable crystal. Ventilation was through the archway, which had no door, and also through a square aperture in the ocean-facing curve of the wall which was big as a large window but placed much higher. Its sill was all of five feet from the floor, so that when the adventurers stood on tiptoe, they were just able to stick their heads out to look down over the sky-island’s very rim.
Though the Museum had three stories, the first and second floors contained only those items with which ordinary museums commonly concern themselves: Hero’s “mummies and bones and books,” and suchlike. The visitors opted to remain on the ground floor, however, for this was where the museum’s valuables were housed—of which. the quantity and quality were utterly beyond belief.
